A New Dawn
by lolagirl
Summary: Sam and Mike were the only ones to survive that night. That should have brought them closer together. Instead, it drove them apart. But when they each receive an invitation from a mysterious stranger to visit the newly rebuilt lodge on Blackwood Mountain, they may have to join forces one last time to save innocent lives...and perhaps to once again save each other.
1. Chapter 1

Dead.

All of her friends were dead. All except for one.

That thought had been the only thing going through her head since the helicopter landed at the top of the mountain to rescue them. All she could see when she closed her eyes were the lifeless, headless bodies of her friends hanging from the ceiling above her. All she could see were the monsters that had terrorized them, hunted them and brutally murdered them. She'd almost lost her own life to one of them – her former best friend, no less. If she had so much as breathed at the wrong moment, there would have only been one survivor left to tell the tale.

The tale that nobody would believe.

Sam sat perfectly still in the hard plastic chair in the lobby of the police station, starting blankly at the wall on the other side of the room. She'd been sitting there for what had felt like hours, but she knew it had only been probably a half hour at the most. She'd already been grilled by the police, told them everything. Everything about the elaborate "prank" that had been played on them up at the lodge. Everything about the Wendigos roaming freely through the mines. And right now, those officers were hearing the same story from someone else.

Not that it would make the story any more believable.

Even though she could tell the officers weren't buying her story, she could also tell they weren't viewing her as a suspect in the deaths of her friends. They assumed that she and her friends had been targeted by a serial killer up on that mountain and that the events that took place had traumatized her so badly that, in a state of shock, she had simply imagined all of that monster nonsense. They assumed that once that shock wore off, the real memories of what had happened would come flooding back to her, and they simply asked that she contact them as soon as they did.

But she was adamant about what she had seen. "The Wendigos are real," she'd told them. "They are living in the mines up on that mountain. You guys have to do something about it or more people are going to die."

She informed them that fire was their weakness. Burn the mines from the inside out if they had to. But she knew they weren't listening to her. They were pretending to, just to humor her. They would go up to that mountain to retrieve the bodies of her friends, to turn the whole area into a crime scene, but they would not heed her warnings. It was possible that some of the people sent up there to investigate would die.

But that wouldn't be on her conscience. She'd warned them. That was all she could do.

The sound of footsteps approaching was the first thing to break Sam out of her daze. She blinked, removed her gaze from the wall and glanced up to her left.

Michael Munroe, the only other one to have survived the horrors of the previous night, had just been released from the interrogation room and sent to the waiting area, just as Sam had. His empty gaze met hers in the only form of acknowledgment either one could manage to muster up at the moment before taking a seat across from her.

He landed in the chair with great force, as though he had just simply dropped down into it. Immediately he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his face cradled in his hands.

Sam studied him for a moment and didn't like what she saw. She had known Mike for years and had disliked him for most of that time. Yet despite her disdain for him, she'd never been able to dispute how attractive he was. His good looks often teetered between Metrosexual Pretty Boy and rugged masculinity, but no matter which side of the spectrum he was on during any given day, his smile always remained the same: cocky, sexy, _happy._ That smile was missing from his face at the moment, for obvious reasons, but that wasn't the only thing about his appearance that unnerved her. On his hand was a blood-stained bandage covering the area where two of his fingers had once been. The jacket he wore that he'd found in the mines was streaked with dirt and ripped in various spots from when one of the Wendigos attacked him. On his face were cuts and bruises that rivaled her own, and in his eyes there was nothing. No hint of emotion. No despair. No rage. No fear. Instead, he looked tired. Defeated.

Broken.

Lifting his head up, he looked at her again. Looked right at her, right through her. They stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. They didn't have to. There were no words to describe what they were feeling at the moment, so there was no use in trying to find any. Mike and Sam had never been close. They shared mutual friends, they'd engage in small talk with one another on occasion when left alone, but that was it. To Sam, Mike was always arrogant and obnoxious. To Mike, Sam was always uptight and judgmental. But now...now things were different. They'd fought together, side-by-side. It was safe to say that they'd saved each others' lives.

And now all they had was each other.

After a few moments of total silence between the two, Mike opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but before he could speak he was interrupted by the sound of a woman's voice frantically calling out his name.

"Mike! Oh my God, Mike!"

Sam glanced over toward the front door of the police station to see a beautiful woman burst through, her arms wide open as she rushed over to Mike.

Mike stood up from his chair and was immediately enveloped in a hug by the woman Sam could only assume was his mother. Behind the woman was a man who looked like an older version of Mike, most likely his father. His parents had come to pick him up.

"Mom. Dad."

This was the first time Sam had heard him speak since before the lodge blew up. She nearly cringed at how broken he sounded, but it shouldn't have come to any surprise to her. Out of the two of them, Mike had arguably lost a lot more than Sam had. His new girlfriend. His ex-girlfriend. A couple of guys he had considered best friends.

"What happened, Mike?" Mr. Munroe placed a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed.

"Sweetie, you don't have to talk about it. Not yet." His mother planted a kiss on his forehead and then turned to her husband. "Let's go speak to an officer before we leave with him."

Mr. Munroe nodded solemnly and the two headed over to the front desk.

Mike watched them go and then glanced back at Sam. "Are your parents coming?" he asked softly.

Sam bit her lip and swallowed hard to keep a flood of fresh tears from overflowing. She shook her head. "No. My parents are on vacation in Florida for the next few days. I tried to call them to tell them about what's going on before they see it on the news, but I keep getting their voicemail."

Mike frowned and ran a hand through his hair. "Seriously? How are you getting home?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it."

"My parents will drive you."

"No, it's fine. Really. I can just call a cab or something."

"Sam." Mike reached out and grabbed her hand. "I'm not asking if you want my parents to drive you home. I'm telling you my parents are driving you home. End of story. I'm not leaving this station without you."

She sighed heavily and said, "Fine. If it's no trouble for them..."

"Are you kidding me?" Mike lowered his head slightly so that his gaze was level with hers. "Sam, you saved their son's life...not once, but twice. I think it's safe to say that it won't be any trouble for them."

Sam could feel the corner of her mouth twitch, as though it wanted to upturn into a half smile, but she instantly remembered there was nothing to smile about. Not now, possibly not ever again.

"We're all set to leave," Mrs. Munroe said, returning to her son's side.

Mike nodded and said, "Mom, Dad, this is Sam. She's the only other survivor..." His voice trailed off as though it were too painful for him to continue.

His mother seemed to understand. "Hello, Sam," she greeted her with a smile. "I'm so sorry for all that you two went through up there..."

Mike seemed to regain his composer as he cleared his throat and said, "Her parents are out of town right now, she has no way to get home. Do you mind if we drop her off on the way?"

"We absolutely do not mind at all," Mr. Munroe said, giving Sam a small smile as well.

"Thank you," Sam said quietly.

"No problem," Mr. Munroe said. "Are we ready then?"

Mike and Sam glanced at each other and nodded. They couldn't leave that police station soon enough.

The four of them headed for the exit. As soon as the door opened, a cold breeze fell over them and Sam welcomed it. The station had been hot and stuffy and even though she was still clad only in her workout clothes, the cold air biting at her bare skin assured her that she could still feel something. It reminded her that she was still alive.

It wasn't until they'd reached the car that Sam realized that Mike still held her hand in his. They parted briefly to climb into opposite sides of the back seat, but as soon as their seat belts were on, their hands found each other again.

After all they'd just been through together, neither one was quite ready to let the other one go just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

It was early afternoon by the time Mr. Munroe pulled up in front of Sam's house. The car ride from the police station had mostly been filled with silence, even though Sam was sure Mike's parents were anxious to hear the details about what exactly had happened up on the mountain. She figured as soon as she left the car the conversation would begin.

She couldn't help but feel a little jealous over the fact that Mike would have somebody to talk to about everything, while in a few seconds she would be entering an empty home where there would be nobody to comfort her. And even if she was finally able to get in touch with her parents by phone, she wasn't sure if she was going to tell them about what had happened. She didn't want to ruin their vacation.

"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Munroe," Sam said in a small voice as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"Please, call me Roger," Mr. Munroe said, turning around to look at her. "And you're very welcome."

Sam nodded and glanced over at Mike, squeezing his hand slightly. "Take care, Mike."

She assumed this was the end of the line for the two of them. Considering their lack of any sort of relationship with each other before the events of last night, there was really no reason for them to keep in touch. They both had a lot of healing to do, and when and _if_ they could ever move on from this tragedy, their lives were both so different that the likelihood that they should cross paths ever again was very unlikely.

She was reaching for the door handle when Mike squeezed her hand back and said, "Wait. I'll walk you to your door." He exchanged a glance with his father in the rear-view mirror. "I'll be right back."

Mr. Munroe simply nodded and the two teens exited the car.

"So..." Sam said as they slowly made their way up the driveway.

"So..." Mike echoed. They exchanged small half smiles as they reached the front door. "Are you sure you want to stay here alone? My parents have a guest bedroom at their house. You could stay with us until your parents come home."

It was a nice offer, and Sam was so close to taking him up on it. She wasn't looking forward to being alone for the next couple of days, but living with Mike for any period of time would be awkward at best. "Nah, I'll be fine here. Thank you for the offer, though. I really appreciate it."

"Okay." Mike glanced back at his parents' car. "I guess I should be going then."

They stood there staring at each other for a moment, unmoving. Neither one of them was admittedly all that eager to part ways. And neither one knew exactly how to say goodbye.

To Sam's surprise, Mike leaned forward and pulled her into an embrace. As soon as his arms were around her, Sam reached up and returned the hug in kind. Burying her face in his chest, she closed her eyes tightly, trying desperately to refrain from breaking down in his arms. If she let herself, she would burst into uncontrollable sobs, drowning them both in her tears.

"You take care, too, Sam," he muttered softly into her hair, his lips grazing the top of her head.

Sam could have stayed in his arms all day, but Mike released her a brief moment later. He cleared his throat, ran his uninjured hand through his hair and simply said, "I'll see you around," before taking off down the walkway, back toward his parents' vehicle.

She didn't even have a chance to say goodbye before he got into the car and his father started backing out of the driveway. Instead, she held up a hand in a solemn wave and watched them drive off...leaving her all alone.

As soon as Sam stepped foot into her parents' house, she wanted to walk right back out. Despite the sun shining brightly outside, her parents had pulled down all of the shades when they left for their vacation, leaving the house dark and cold. Immediately she began going around and opening all the shades to let the sunlight it. After last night, she wanted nothing to do with the dark. She didn't care if she ever saw the dark again.

The first thing on Sam's agenda was to take a shower. The second thing on her agenda was to crawl into her bed and sleep for the next couple of days. But while she was heading upstairs to her bedroom, a thought crossed her mind. There was something else she had to do first.

Sitting down at the small student desk in her bedroom, Sam turned on her laptop. Since both she and Mike had lost their cell phones somewhere up on that mountain, she had no way of calling Mike if need be, or vice versa. So, quickly logging onto Facebook, she went to Mike's profile and started typing up a message to him:

 _Hey, Mike, I just wanted to let you know that if you feel like talking at all about...well, anything or everything, feel free to give me a call. I know we don't have our phones, so you can call my parents' landline at 555-8647 anytime. I'll be home tonight and for the next couple of days. I really don't feel like venturing out into the world just yet. And if you don't feel like talking, that's fine too. I'll understand. Just figured I would throw the option out there. Talk to you later._

She felt like a loser sending that message to him, but she had to do it. She hoped he would call her, because even if he didn't want to talk, _she_ did.

Closing up her laptop, Sam proceeded toward the bathroom to take a shower. When she glanced at herself in the mirror above the sink, she cringed. Her normally soft, shiny blonde hair was all dirty and tangled. Her face and neck were covered with blood and dirt. She had a couple of nasty cuts and bruises on her forehead that she was sure would be there for a while. All in all though, she could have looked a lot worse.

Tearing her gaze away from herself, Sam peeled off her workout clothes and hopped in the shower. For the first ten minutes or so, all she did was stand perfectly still under the hot water, letting it cascade over her aching body. The warmth of the water felt amazing, after having just spent a majority of last night in the freezing cold. The water washed away all of the dirt and dried blood that had caked onto her skin, but it did nothing to wash away the feeling of dread that still clung to her core. By the time she got out of the shower, she was shivering despite the fact that the bathroom was full of warm steam.

After throwing on a white t-shirt and a pair of red flannel pajama bottoms, she briefly debated on whether or not she should eat something or take a nap. Since her stomach felt as though it was tied into a bunch of knots and her eyes were having a hard time staying open, she opted for the sleep.

The first thing she did in preparation was to go to every room of the house and turn on all of the lights. Even though it was bright outside, it probably still wouldn't be by the time she woke up, and the last thing she wanted to wake up to was dark silence. The next thing she did was turn the ringer off on the phones so she wouldn't be disturbed on the rare chance somebody would call.

The last thing she did was return to the bathroom, where her mother kept her sleeping pills stored in the medicine cabinet. Sam never liked the idea of sleeping pills. She had always given her mother a hard time for using them. However, this was a special occasion. While Sam was sure she would have no problem getting to sleep, she knew these pills would help _keep_ her asleep.

She had no desire to be awake right now.

She took one pill and made her way back to her bedroom. She climbed onto her bed and immediately reveled in how soft and comfortable it was. She had always taken this bed for granted, but not anymore. For the first time in the last 24 hours, she felt safe. Secure. It would be fleeting, she knew, but for now she would take what she could get.

It didn't even take a full minute after Sam's head hit the pillow before she was out, slipping away into a dark abyss of what would hopefully be a dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

After dropping Sam off at her house, Mike's parents had promptly driven him to the ER to get his hand seen to. Luckily, he'd been able to get in right away, although he still ended up spending the rest of the day at the hospital getting his fingers stitched up. The doctors were shocked that he'd been able to survive all of the pain and blood loss, although they were impressed that he had done a good enough job wrapping up the wound so it hadn't gotten infected.

On the way home from the hospital, his mother and father finally started inquiring about what had happened the night before. He started off by telling them about Josh and the prank he had pulled on all of them. By the time he got to the part about the Wendigos, however, he saw his parents exchange glances with each other in the front seat before his father muttered, "Wow, those are quite the pain meds they gave him."

Mike's heart sank in his chest. His own parents didn't believe him. He understood the police being skeptic, but not his own flesh and blood. That left only one person in the entire world that he could really talk to now.

Sam.

He had been thinking about her all day. He'd hated leaving her all alone and regretted not being more persuasive about having her come stay at his house. He shouldn't have taken "no" for an answer. He shouldn't have worded it as a question but rather a demand. He should have just told his father to keep driving past her house and then locked all of the car doors so she couldn't escape.

He didn't want to be apart from her right now. It didn't feel right. After everything they had just been through, they _shouldn't_ be apart. The shouldn't be around anyone else but each other, because nobody else understood.

By the time the Munroes pulled into their driveway, Mike had decided not to talk to anyone else about the previous night. If anyone else asked him about it, he was fully prepared to simply tell them that he wasn't ready to talk about it yet.

"Jesus, Mike! What the hell happened to you?"

As soon as Mike was out of the car, his younger brother, Ethan, rushed out of the house to greet him.

Ethan was seventeen and a huge pain in Mike's ass. The two didn't always get along, but nobody could dispute how much concern was etched onto his brother's face as he watched Mike limp up the driveway.

"Monsters happened to me," Mike replied with a mirthless smirk.

"Your brother is on pain medication," Mrs. Munroe explained to Ethan as she and her husband walked past him and into the house.

Ethan stared at him with one eyebrow raised. "You okay, bro?"

It was a stupid question, one that didn't even warrant an answer. Still, Mike sighed heavily and said, "I'm alive."

"Mike, can I make you something to eat?" his mother asked as soon as he stepped through the front door.

"No, thanks," he said, making his way over the living room couch and crashing onto it.

"Please? When was the last time you ate? And you really shouldn't be taking those pain killers on an empty stomach..."

Mike rubbed his temples as his head started to ache. "Fine, Mom. Make me something." He wasn't planning on eating whatever she made, but this would at least get her off his back for the time being.

"What happened up there, Mike?" Ethan asked softly. He had followed his big brother into the room and taken a seat in the armchair across from him.

"I don't want to talk about it." Mike muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

Ethan hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Are your friends..."

"Dead." Mike suddenly jumped up from the couch. "Yes, Ethan, my friends are dead. And I already told you, I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"

Ethan held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, man. When you're ready to talk–"

"When I'm ready to talk, I'm going to find somebody who's willing to listen."

"I'm willing to listen."

Mike studied him for a moment. Sure, it was easy for him to say that. But as soon as Mike would say the word "Wendigo" he knew his brother would react no differently than their parents or the police had. He just wasn't in the mood for that right now.

"Maybe later. Hey, can I borrow your phone for a sec?"

"Sure." Ethan nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket, handing it to Mike. "I take it you lost yours on the mountain?"

"Yeah." Mike grabbed the phone. He had the sudden urge to call Sam, to check in on her. He'd wanted to call her all day, but had been unable to while at the hospital. However, he realized right away that he had no idea how to get in touch with her. She had lost her phone too, so the only way to call her was to find out her parents' home phone number, if they even had one.

He wasn't sure if she would be going online at home, but he figured the only way he could possibly get in touch with her was through Facebook. So, he logged his brother out and logged himself in to send her a message.

Mike had added Sam as a friend a couple of years ago, mostly just as a formality. He was friends with everyone else in the gang, why not her too? But after a short while, he'd debated on removing her from his list. All she ever posted were shares of vegetarian recipes, fitness tips and inspirational quotes from dead authors and poets. He'd always found it to be quite annoying, which was appropriate, considering he'd always found Sam herself to be annoying.

But now, he couldn't get into contact with her soon enough.

As soon as he was logged in, he saw that he had one message waiting for him. He smiled slightly when he saw it was from Sam.

 _Hey, Mike, I just wanted to let you know that if you feel like talking at all about...well, anything or everything, feel free to give me a call. I know we don't have our phones, so you can call my parents' landline at 555-8647 anytime. I'll be home tonight and for the next couple of days. I really don't feel like venturing out into the world just yet. And if you don't feel like talking, that's fine too. I'll understand. Just figured I would throw the option out there. Talk to you later._

Immediately, Mike dialed the number she gave him.

"Honey," his mother said, poking her head out of the kitchen, "I'm making you a sandwich. What would you like on it?"

Mike held up a finger as if to say "hold on" as the line began to ring. He waited eagerly to hear the sound of her voice when she picked up, but after a few rings the answering machine picked up instead. Mike frowned. Why wasn't she picking up? When the machine beeped, he decided to leave her a message so that she could call him back.

"Hey, Sam, it's Mike. Just got your message, figured I would give you a ring. Um...call me when you get this. I definitely feel like talking, so...yeah. The number here is 555-3342. Talk to you soon."

He ended the call and handed the phone back to Ethan. "Thanks."

"No problem." Ethan glanced down at his phone. "Who's Sam?"

"She's a...friend. She saved my life."

Ethan nodded in approval. "She's kinda hot."

Mike shot him a glare. "Are you serious?"

His brother shrugged. "What? She is."

He wasn't sure why, but his brother's comment aggravated him. He knew Ethan was probably just trying to lighten up the mood a little bit, but Mike wasn't ready for that quite yet.

All he was really ready for at the moment was sleep.

Choosing to ignore his brother's comment, Mike turned to leave the room. "Tell Mom I'm going upstairs to take a shower and lie down for a bit. I'll eat something later."

"I heard that, young man," his mother said, returning from the kitchen. "Mike, you really need to eat something."

"I know, I know. But I really need a shower, and I'm just really tired right now. I've been through a lot and I just...I want to shut down for a bit. Okay?"

His mother seemed to be considering it for a moment. "Fine," she said, placing a warm hand along the side of his face. "I'll leave your sandwich in the fridge. You can come get it when you decide your hungry."

Mike gave her a halfhearted smile. "Thanks, Mom," he said before taking off upstairs.

He brought a cordless phone into the bathroom while he took his shower in case Sam called. She didn't.

He brought it into his old bedroom, which still looked like it had before he left for college, and set it on the nightstand. That way if she called while he was asleep, he'd wake up to immediately answer it.

But two hours later when he woke up, she still hadn't called.

Sitting up in bed, Mike grabbed the phone and tried to call her again. No answer, just the machine. He hung up without leaving a message and dialed the number again. He did this five times before he accepted that she wasn't going to be picking up.

The rational part of his brain knew he had no real reason to worry, but he couldn't help it. She'd said in her message that she was going to be home all night. So why wasn't she answering? He thought maybe she was just sleeping, but the ringing of the phone should have woken her up.

He had to go see her in person.

Quickly, he jumped off the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he swayed a bit. The room felt as though it was spinning and he was lightheaded, most likely side-effects of his pain meds, mixed with a lack of food in his stomach. He sat back down for a moment and lowered his head between his legs to get the blood flowing back to his brain. When he started to feel a little more stable, he got back up and went downstairs to find his parents.

He found them in the living room watching a movie. His mother's face brightened when she saw him. "You've finally come down to eat something?"

"No," he said. "I need to borrow the car."

Mr. Munroe furrowed his brow. "What for?"

"I need to go see Sam. I've been trying to call her and she's not picking up."

His mother picked up on the concern in his voice and said, "Honey, I'm sure Sam is okay. She's probably just sleeping like you were. Or, maybe she's out somewhere."

Mike swallowed hard. First his parents didn't believe his story about the Wendigos, and now they were completely dismissing his concern for someone who, along with himself, had just gone through a very traumatic event.

"I just need to be sure she's okay," he said, trying to control the aggravation in his voice.

His mother sighed and exchanged a glance with her husband before glancing back up at Mike and saying, "You can't drive while on those pain killers. If you can get Ethan to take you over to Sam's house, you may borrow the car."

Mike let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. At nineteen, he hated having to get his parents' permission for anything. But their car, their rules.

"Thanks," he said, before exiting the room to go find his brother.

Ethan immediately jumped at the chance to drive Mike to Sam's house. He had gotten his license only a month ago and since he didn't have his own car yet, he was thrilled whenever his parents gave him the opportunity to drive theirs.

The two boys were silent on the trip to Sam's house. Mike could tell that his brother wanted to grill him about the previous night's events, but surprisingly he didn't.

Mike tried calling Sam a few more times on Ethan's cell phone on the way over. Still no answer. A slight feeling of panic began to take over, especially when Ethan pulled into Sam's driveway and Mike saw that every light was on inside the house. Would she have left them on if she wasn't home? Would she have left them on if she was sleeping?

He turned to his brother. "Wait for me here. I'll be back in a minute."

Ethan nodded as Mike got out of the car.

As he made his way to the front door, all sorts of crazy scenarios started formulating in Mike's head. For instance, what if the paramedic who'd checked Sam over this morning had missed something? What if her injuries were worse than they'd thought? She hadn't gone to the hospital to get a full check up and she could be lying on the floor in her house unconscious. Or what if a Wendigo had somehow followed them down from the mountain and broken into her house to finish the job? He knew the latter was absolutely absurd, but it still didn't help the feeling of unease settling in his stomach.

When he got to the door, he first rang the bell and waited a moment. Nothing. So then he knocked loudly on it.. "Sam? Are you in there?"

Still nothing.

He moved to the side to peer into one of the windows on the front of the house. The shades were up, making it easy for him to see inside. He went around the whole house looking in every window. No sign of her.

"Damn it, Sam," he muttered to himself. "Just come to the fucking door already."

Making his way back out to the front of the house, he lifted his hand to try knocking again when he heard a sudden, blood-curdling scream coming from inside the house.

"Sam!" Mike yelled. He began pounding on the door with both fists now, making his injured hand throb with pain. But right now, that was the last of his concerns. He needed to get inside that house.

He contemplated throwing himself into the door to break it down, but on a whim decided to try the handle first to see if the door was locked. Surprisingly, it wasn't and Mike cursed Sam under his breath for being so stupid as to not lock her doors. Especially after the night they'd just had.

Mike threw open the door and ran inside. "Sam?" he called out as he headed for the stairs. He figured she would be upstairs since he had been unable to spot her through all the windows downstairs.

"Mike!" He could hear Sam scream his name and when he got to the top of the stairs, he followed her voice to a room down at the end of the hallway.

The door was open and when Mike rushed in, he found Sam writhing around on her bed, gripping the sheets so hard in her hands that her knuckles were white. Her eyes were tightly shut and her head was shaking back and forth. "No! Please, no!" she cried out.

She was having a nightmare.

Mike sighed in relief to see that she was okay, but he quickly rushed over to the bed and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders.

"Sam. Sam! Wake up!"

He wasn't sure if it was safe to wake her or not, but he couldn't let her go on like this. Obviously whatever was going on in her dream, she wanted out. When she was unresponsive to his voice and touch, he carefully climbed on to the bed and began to shake her gently.

"Sam!"

With a gasp, Sam's eyes flew open, wide and afraid. It took her a moment to focus on Mike and another moment for the realization to set in that she was in the comfort of her own bedroom, not wherever she just was in her dream.

"Mike?" She reached up a hand and placed it firmly on his chest, as if checking to see if he was really there.

"Hey," he said softly, taking her hand in his.

"What..." Sam glanced around the room before slowly sitting up. "What are you doing here?"

"I got your message. I've been trying to call you," he explained. "You weren't picking up. I was afraid that...I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And then I got here and I heard you screaming and I just...let myself in."

Sam rubbed at her eyes. "Yeah, bad dream," she muttered. "Sorry. I turned the ringer down on the phone before I came to lie down. I guess I wasn't thinking you'd call. At least not right away."

Mike absentmindedly reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair away from Sam's forehead. "Of course I was going to call right away. There's a lot to talk about. You literally don't have anyone to talk to right now, and I _do_ but nobody will believe a word I say."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sam muttered, shaking her head.

"Listen," Mike said, standing up from her bed, "I really think you should come home with me. My brother drove me over here, he's outside waiting in the car. Please come with us. I really do not like the idea of you being here all alone. Besides, it will be a lot easier for us to talk if we're in the same house. I promise it won't be an inconvenience for my parents or anything, just... _please_."

Sam blinked up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. He didn't know why she even had to think about it. _He_ certainly wouldn't want to be alone at a time like this, so he couldn't imagine that she _did._

"Maybe that's not a terrible idea," she said finally.

Relieved, Mike said, "Great. Just pack up a few things and meet me outside."

Sam nodded as Mike left the room.

He had expected her to put up a fight about going home with him, but he was glad she hadn't. Even if she had, though, he would have just invited himself to stay at _her_ house for the next couple of days instead.

He wasn't going to let her be alone right now.


	4. Chapter 4

"I thought Josh and I were close. I thought we had a connection. I guess...I guess I was wrong." Sam glanced down at her hands resting loosely in her lap as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Mike, who sat beside her at the end of the bed in his parents' guest room, sighed and for a moment said nothing. This whole thing had already become a touchy subject for them, but they both knew they had to discuss it. They'd been sitting here for what felt like hours now, talking about everything. About last night. About the future. Where they would go from here. How they were going to find the strength when they got there.

"You know," he said, "we all thought you two were going to hook up at one point."

Sam brushed away more tears that had begun to flow. "You know, we almost did once."

Mike raised his eyebrows in shock. "What? Seriously? When?"

"Prom night," she replied with the slightest of smiles emerging on her face.

"No way."

Sam gave him a tearful grin. "It's true. Remember how Hannah and I cut out early that night?"

Mike snorted. "I do remember that. You declared the Prom lame and said that we were all lame as well for wanting to stay."

"Well it _was_ lame," Sam said defensively. "Anyway, Hannah and I went back to her house instead to just watch movies for the rest of the night, but she ended up falling asleep during the first one. I wasn't tired at all, so I just figured I would stay up and watch the movies by myself. A little after two in the morning I got thirsty so I went downstairs to get some water. Josh just happened to be sneaking in the back door when I entered the kitchen. We pretty much scared the shit out of each other."

She chuckled softly at the memory. "He'd been at a party with some friends, so naturally he was drunk. He asked me how Prom was, and I told it had sucked. He asked why and I confessed it was because I didn't have a date. He then said he couldn't understand how nobody had asked me. He said that high school boys were idiots and then he just... _kissed me_. Like, out of nowhere. And I kissed him back, even though I knew how drunk he was. I'd always had a bit of a crush on him, so that moment was like a dream come true for me. We must have stood in the kitchen like that for at least ten minutes or so, making out while the rest of the house slept. It was kinda hot, actually. I sensed that it could have led to something more, but I knew he probably didn't even realize what he was doing, so I put an end to it. I told him to go sleep it off. The next morning, he acted no different than normal around me, so I figured that he had no recollection of what had happened. We never spoke of it."

"Wow." Mike glanced down at the floor, feeling uncomfortable all of the sudden. He could picture that scene pretty clearly in his mind. He'd always assumed Sam had been crushing on her best friend's older brother, and he could only imagine how crushed she was when he'd kissed her one night, only to never mention it again. Like it had meant nothing to him.

He reached out and placed a hand gently on her back. As soon as he touched her, she broke out into tears, burying her face in her hands.

"I loved him," she sobbed. "I loved him so much."

Mike's heart broke for Sam. He'd never seen her like this before. Sam was the strongest person he'd ever met, and last night had shown him just how strong she was. So naturally he didn't know how to handle her like this, sobbing uncontrollably on the bed next to him.

He rubbed her back soothingly. "I know you did."

"And I don't just mean I loved him like _that_ ," she said said between sobs _._ "He was one of my best friends. We became so close after Hannah and Beth went missing, despite all of his...issues. I would go with him to all of his therapy sessions. I can't believe...I can't believe he would include me in that stupid prank of his, and I can't believe...I can't believe he's dead..."

Mike cringed as a vision of Josh getting dragged away by Hannah flashed through his mind and a pang of guilt ripped through his chest. "We don't even know that he's dead, Sam..."

She glanced over at him with wild eyes. "How can he _not_ be dead, Mike? Either Hannah killed him, or she turned him into one of _them_ and he's as good as dead anyway."

"I know," Mike mumbled. He leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. "God, Sam, this is all so fucked up."

She said nothing and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Her crying had subsided, which Mike was thankful for. He hated watching any girl cry, but for some reason it was especially hard that the tears belonged to Sam.

"I'm sorry about Jess," Sam said suddenly in a small voice.

Mike sat back and looked at her. He could tell from the expression on her face that she really meant it. Like she was hurting for him. It was so intense that he actually had to look away for fear that he would start sobbing as well.

"We weren't serious, you know," he said, clearing his throat. "I've never been serious with any girl I've ever been with. Not Em. Not Jess. But I was hoping it would be different with her. I was going to try, anyway. I liked her. A lot." He clenched his jaw as more memories came flooding back. "Perhaps if I hadn't been dick, none of this would have happened. If I hadn't pulled that stupid prank on Hannah in the first place, _everyone_ would be alive right now."

Sam shook her head. "No. Mike, you can't do this. Don't blame yourself for all of this. Jess and Em were the ones who orchestrated that prank on Hannah, not you."

"But I agreed to be a part of it."

"And so did Matt and Ashley and Chris," Sam pointed out.

"But not you." Mike glanced back at her. "You were against the whole thing from the beginning." He turned away from her. "I should have just given Hannah a chance. I knew she liked me, so why couldn't I have just dated _her_ instead of Emily? Em was a bitch to me every chance she got. Why couldn't I have gone for a nice girl for a change? If I had, we wouldn't even be here right now having to have this conversation. You'd probably be off somewhere making out with Josh again, Chris and Ashley would still be dancing around their feelings for one another, Emily would be nagging Matt about something he supposedly did or said wrong, Jess would be with some other guy, Hannah and Beth would still be alive..."

"Mike." Sam placed a hand on either side of Mike's face and forced him to look at her. "Don't do this. Please. We could spend all night sitting here talking about how different everything would be right now if only we had done one little thing different, but none of that matters. Nothing can change what happened. Nothing. We need to accept it and move on. But most importantly, we need to focus on what's most important right now: that we still have each other. Neither one of us is having to go through this alone. Let's embrace that. Let's embrace each other."

Mike's breath hitched in his throat as his eyes locked with hers. He stared into them so deeply that everything else faded out of his vision. She was right. They weren't alone. They had each other. And in the span of just about one day, she had become the single most important person in his life.

And that realization hit him hard.

Before he really knew what he was doing – and before he could even think to stop himself – Mike leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Sam's.

He felt her stiffen up as soon as he kissed her, and he immediately regretted his actions. What was he even doing? Kissing Sam? That didn't even make any sense. Until last night, he wasn't even sure he could stand her, and now he wanted nothing more than to hold her close in his arms, to feel the warmth of her body, the beating of her heart assuring him that she was still alive. That he wasn't alone. That he still had her.

He knew this was wrong. He knew he should pull away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Especially after her lips slowly began to soften under his.

For the first time in the last twenty-four hours, he felt alive again. He could tell she felt it too. That's why she wasn't stopping him. Because she certainly had every right to. She'd never exactly been a fan of his either. But suddenly, she was kissing him back. Suddenly, all of their emotions – fear, despair, sadness, anger – they took over, piling into that one kiss with such a force that Mike wasn't even sure at what point they had fallen back onto the bed.

This was so inappropriate. Their friends were dead. They'd both just gone through what would probably be the most traumatizing event of the rest of their lives. This was not the right time for this. What they were doing was just a result of their defense mechanisms kicking in. They were merely trying to distract themselves from a harsh reality.

Mike knew he had to stop it. He knew if he didn't, they would end up doing something they both regretted. And it killed him. Her lips were so soft and tasted of strawberry lip gloss. Her skin was warm and smooth. She smelled like a mixture of vanilla and lavender. She felt small but perfect beneath him, like somehow she belonged there.

And it was that realization that finally snapped him out of it.

Quickly, he rolled off of her and sat up on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to catch his breath and slow his heart rate. "Uh..." he said, running a hand through his hair. "Sam, I am so, _so_ sorry..."

Sam sat up as well. She looked stunned, like she herself had just realized what they'd been doing. She cleared her throat. "It's, um, it's okay."

"No." Mike shook his head furiously back and forth. "It's not. I...I'm on some seriously heavy-duty pain killers right now. It's really fucking with my head." It was a lie. He'd only taken that one pill earlier and the effects had since worn off. The almost-unbearable throbbing pain in his hand right now was proof of that.

"Right." Sam nodded, her features unreadable.

Mike gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment, silently cursing himself. Boy, he sure did screw this one up, didn't he? Now things between them would be awkward, at least for a while. How could he have just gone and kissed her like that? _Why_ had he?

"Well," he said, standing up from the bed, "we should both probably get some sleep."

"Yeah, we should." Sam glanced up at him with wide eyes, so wide he could see every bit of her emotions swirling through them. It was too much for him to handle at the moment, so he quickly averted his gaze away from her.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Mike."

He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob. He contemplated going back in there and apologizing again. Clearing the air so that maybe things wouldn't be weird in the morning. But he didn't. He couldn't. He was afraid if he went back in there, he might just kiss her again.

But that would be a mistake. What just happened in there would _never_ happen again. He'd make sure of it.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hey, there! I just want to take a quick moment to thank everyone who has been reading/reviewing/following/favoriting this story. I may be slow at times with updating, due to a combination of work and writer's block. However, I am going to try really hard not to give up on this like I have with some others in the past. Also, I just wanted to mention that these first few chapters are pretty much just serving as a super-long prologue to set up the actual story, which will take place 2 years after the end of the game, in case anyone was confused as to why so far the story doesn't seem to be following the summary. Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Thanks again, everyone!


	5. Chapter 5

_**Two Years Later...**_

The alarm woke Sam up from a deep, dreamless sleep. Groaning, she rolled over and blindly swatted at the alarm clock to shut it off. When her hand failed to make contact with it, she sighed heavily and forced her eyes open.

The bright sunlight filtering into the room through her window instantly blinded her. How had she forgotten to pull the shade down last night? Ignoring the incessant beeping of the alarm, she rubbed at her eyes and yawned as she sat up in the bed.

"Oh my GOD, would you please shut that thing up?" came an annoyed voice from the other side of the wall behind her bed. "Some of us are trying to sleep in."

The voice belonged to Izzy, Sam's roommate of nearly a year. Izzy often liked to sleep in, unless she had somewhere to be. She was a cocktail waitress who worked only the late shifts, so sleeping in for her was acceptable.

It _wasn't_ acceptable for Sam, however, who worked only the day shifts at the local gym. And when Sam finally glanced at the time on the alarm clock next to her bed, she realized that sleeping in was _exactly_ what she had done.

"Shit!" she hissed, turning the alarm off and jumping out of bed. She was supposed to have been at the gym over an hour ago, and she had a spin class to teach in about a half an hour. She must have hit the snooze button a dozen times without even being aware of it.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit," she muttered as she yanked open her bedroom door and headed for the bathroom.

"Dude," Izzy said, poking her head out of her bedroom. "It's like 9:30. Shouldn't you be at work?"

Sam turned to look at her roommate and frowned. Izzy made the perfect cocktail waitress, due to the fact she was insanely hot. Long, wavy red hair, long legs, large bosom, hourglass figure – the works. And while that normally didn't bother Sam at all, she couldn't help but be irritated by the fact that Izzy was standing in front of her looking like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, even though she had just rolled out of bed herself.

"Yes, Izzy, I should be at work," Sam grumbled as she entered the bathroom. "I overslept. It happens." She glanced at herself in the mirror and wanted to scream. Her long, blond hair was a tangled mess, but that could be easily fixed by smoothing it back and putting it into a ponytail like she normally did when she went to work. The dark circles under her eyes, however, were a different story. She looked like she hadn't slept in days...months...years, even. She'd had a bad night the night before. She still had bad nights once in a while. Nights where she couldn't get to sleep. Nights when her anxiety would kick in and she would have to sleep with the lights on. But the lights never did her any good. The nightmares would still come, just like they had the night before. And when that happened, her only option was to take a sleeping pill. It was the only thing that helped to block the visions, the sounds, the smells. All of her nightmares felt too real. Probably because her nightmares were nothing more than the vivid memories of that night two years ago.

Sam shuddered. Thinking about her nightmares was certainly not going to get rid of the circles under her eyes, nor was it going to help speed up the process of getting ready for work. Leaning forward, she turned on the faucet, cupped her hands beneath the stream of cold water, and then splashed it onto her face. She repeated the action two more times before reaching for a hand towel to dry herself off.

"Bad night?" Izzy asked, leaning against the door frame.

"You could say that, yeah," Sam mumbled, grabbing an elastic and pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

"Have you called Dave yet?"

"No, I haven't had a chance to yet." Sam brushed past Izzy and headed back to her bedroom.

"He's probably worried sick," Izzy said, following her.

He probably was. Dave was her supervisor at the gym. He was just a couple years older than she was, he was hot, and he had a thing for her. Or, at least, that was Izzy's theory.

Sam, however, had no interest in him whatsoever. Yes, he was a nice guy. Yes, he was tall, ripped and handsome. He was a great boss to have, very laid-back and easy to work for. Yes, he flirted with her constantly, more than he flirted with anyone else at the gym, and yes, sometimes she flirted back. But ultimately, she felt no spark with him. She felt no attraction to him. She liked him as a person, a co-worker, a friend, but that was it. And because of that, Izzy thought there must be something seriously wrong with her.

There probably was. Sam hadn't felt an attraction to a man in over two years. She'd been hit on in bars, at the gym, even at the grocery story once. And most of the men had been just as good-looking and charming as Dave was. But she dismissed all of them. It got so bad at one point that Izzy had just come out and asked her one night if Sam was actually into girls instead.

Sam had told her, no, she wasn't into girls, but she wasn't into guys either. She didn't want to be in a relationship. She didn't want to find love. She knew that no matter how much a guy thought he wanted to be with her, he wouldn't want to be after he found out about her past. None of the guys who hit on her, not even Dave, would be able to deal with the night terrors she experienced, or the sudden panic attacks that could hit anywhere at any time, for any reason. They wouldn't be able to deal with sleeping with the lights on almost every night. She maybe didn't look like it on the outside most days, but Sam was damaged goods, and the last thing she wanted was to fall in love with somebody who would end things as soon as they realized just how damaged she really was.

Grabbing her cell phone off her night stand, Sam turned it on to see that she had ten text messages, three missed calls and one voicemail, all from Dave. She sighed as she began scrolling through the texts.

At 8:02 a.m.: _Hey, Sam, where u at?_

At 8:09 a.m.: _Sam this isn't like you 2 b late..._

At 8:12 a.m.: _Traffic jam?_

At 8:20 a.m.: _I'm starting to get a little nervous here, Sam..._

At 8:32 a.m.: _ppl here are asking where u r. where r u?_

At 9:01 a.m.: _ok, ur over an hour late now. I'm not mad ur late, just get here asap._

At 9:05 a.m.: _Seriously, Sam, get ur butt down here._

At 9:10 a.m.: _Are u hurt? Should I send help?_

At 9:15 a.m.: _Why aren't u answering ur phone?_

At 9:25 a.m.: _Left a voicemail. Pls call me as soon as u get it._

Izzy, who unbeknownst to Sam had been reading all of the texts over her shoulder, let out a low whistle. "Damn, that boy's got it bad for my girl here. I'm surprised the police haven't come knocking on our door to check in on you." She laughed as she headed out of the room. "Send Romeo a text or something so that he can call off the search party, ok? I'm going back to bed."

Sam rolled her eyes. Deciding to not even listen to the voicemail, she instead dialed Dave's number to let him know she was alive, she was ok, and that she would probably not be able to teach her class today.

He answered halfway through the first ring. "Sam?"

"Hey, Dave," she said casually, hoping that her calm demeanor would help to calm him.

"Dammit, Sam," he breathed into the phone. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just overslept. I...I had a bad night last night. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "I'm just glad you're okay. You've never been late before. I was worried something had happened to you."

"Nope, I'm fine." She paused for a moment before adding, "But thanks for your concern."

As Dave began to tell her just how concerned he had really been, she heard a knock on the front door. Knowing that Izzy had probably already managed to go back to sleep in the one minute she'd been gone, Sam would have to be the one to answer it.

Interrupting Dave mid-sentence, she said, "Hey, can you hold on a sec? There's somebody at the door."

"Yeah, sure," he said as Sam left her room.

When she got to the door, she opened it to find that nobody was there. She stepped out to glance around, but there was nobody in sight. Nobody in the driveway, in the bushes, not even anybody on the sidewalk or in the street.

 _Weird,_ she thought as she stepped back inside. As she did so, her eyes caught a glimpse of something resting atop the welcome mat: an envelope. Picking it up, Sam saw her name scrawled across the front but not her address. And while there was a return address, there was no stamp. So whoever delivered it, it wasn't the mailman.

There was something very weird about this and for a moment she almost contemplated not opening it. But curiosity got the best of her. Tearing open the envelope, she pulled out the card inside and began to read it.

She nearly dropped her phone.

"Sam?" she could hear Dave saying on the other end. She forgot she'd put him on hold.

With a shaky hand, Sam brought the phone up to her ear and said numbly, "Dave, I have to go. Can you get somebody to cover my class? I'll be in a little later."

"Uh, yeah, I can get Monica to cover for you. Is everything okay?"

"Not really," Sam said, her voice barely above a whisper. She hung up the phone and continued to stare down at the card.

An invitation.

Without hesitation, Sam raised her phone and began dialing a number she still had memorized, despite the fact she hadn't called it in a really long time. She wasn't even sure it was the right number anymore, but she didn't care. She had to give it a try.

After three rings, she debated on hanging up. She didn't want to leave a voicemail. She wasn't even sure she wanted to talk to him. But just before she could end the call, somebody picked up. A male voice answered on the other end, a voice she hadn't heard for so long even though in some ways it felt she had just heard it yesterday.

"Hello?"

"Mike," she said, her voice trembling. "This is Sam. We need to talk."

xxx

The alarm woke Mike up from a deep, dreamless sleep. Without even opening his eyes, his hand found the alarm clock and he immediately hit the snooze button. He knew it was 9:30 – that was the time his alarm was set to go off at – but he had no real reason to get up. He didn't have to be at work until around 5:00 that afternoon, and besides...he had a hot brunette sleeping in the bed next to him, whose long, lean legs were currently tangled with his.

Carefully, he turned around in the bed to look at her to see if the alarm had woken her up as well, but it was clear to see it hadn't. She didn't even seem affected when he untangled himself from her and he was impressed by how soundly she seemed to sleep.

For a moment, Mike sat there, studying her. She looked so beautiful and peaceful lying there. He wished he could remember her name.

She hadn't been the first girl he'd woken up next to that week. As a bartender at a very popular pub, Mike had women throwing themselves at him on a nightly basis. Once in a while, if he was going through a bad spell, he would accept an invitation from one of them to go to her place for the night for some fun. But it was only ever one night. He never asked for their numbers. He rarely asked what their names were. He liked to keep it as simple as possible. Usually he liked to go to their place so he could jet out in the morning, or even soon after they were done. He wasn't one for romance. He didn't love these girls. He wasn't even sure he liked them all that much. He didn't know them. He didn't want to.

He'd made a terrible mistake this time, letting the woman come to his place. Women didn't typically like to screw and then leave. They liked to stay the night. They expected breakfast in the morning.

He hoped she wasn't going to expect breakfast, because she wasn't going to get any.

As Mike carefully climbed out of the bed, he contemplated just leaving his apartment before she woke up. He could place a note on his pillow for her to read, telling her he had a nice time last night, that he had somewhere he needed to be, and that she could let herself out. But for all he knew, she could be a kleptomaniac. She might rob him blind – not that he had anything of much worth, but still. No, he screwed up this time and he was just going to have to live with it. He would have to tell her face-to-face that she needed to leave, and he would have to somehow explain to her that he never wanted to see her again.

Mike made a quick trip to the bathroom and then headed for the kitchen. There was a time, not all that long ago, when he would start every morning off with some Jack Daniels. He would usually need it after a long night of sleep. The kind of sleep where all he would do was dream. But the dreams weren't just figments of his imagination, or snippets of his subconsciousness. They were real. They were memories. Memories he was tired of reliving.

However, his days of drinking were over. Ironic, considering he worked at a bar. He started drinking soon after that night. He started off with an occasional drink here or there, whenever his nerves would get the best of him. But then his nerves started getting the best of him more and more frequently, until eventually he needed to be drunk for most of his waking in hours. It was the only thing that would numb the pain. But his drinking came at a huge price. He was an angry drunk. He didn't used to be. He used to be a fun, happy drunk, the life of the party. But that was before everything happened. Suddenly, he found himself alienating everyone around him, including his own family. Nobody wanted to be around him. Nobody except for one person.

Sam. Sam still wanted to be around him. She wanted to help him. She wanted to save him. But he knew he was beyond saving, and after a while she started getting on his nerves. He felt he didn't deserve to be helped or saved. He didn't deserve to have someone as amazing as Sam by his side, so he began pushing her away. At first, she fought it. But every time she fought, he fought harder. He said horrible things to her. He would parade beautiful women around in front of her and rub it in her face that he was fucking them. After the moment they had shared together that night in his parents' guest bedroom, he didn't want her getting any ideas that maybe it meant something. Like they were going to be together, or that he had feelings for her. He wanted her to know he had no interest in her, romantically or platonically. Every time he looked at her he saw flashes of what happened that night, and it was worse than the nightmares because he was awake.

Slowly, over time, he started to hate Sam. At first he felt bad about it, because it wasn't her fault. It was out of her control. But once the hate – and the booze – fully took over, there was no looking back. He said things to her that could never be unsaid, and it didn't take long before she started hating him back. It didn't take long for her to banish him from her life, to change her number, to remove him from all social media. There were a couple of times they ran into each other in public, and when that happened, she would look right through him. Like he wasn't even there. Like he was a ghost. The first time, he didn't care, because he was looking right through her as well. But the last time it happened, after he'd sobered up, it nearly killed him.

That was when he knew he had lost the single best thing that had ever happened to him, and there was no way he could ever get it back.

With a heavy sigh, Mike poured himself a tall glass of orange juice and then almost immediately poured it down the sink. On mornings like this, he had to fight hard not to give into the urge to have a drink. He didn't keep any alcohol in the apartment, but he lived within walking distance of a liquor store. But he had been sober for a year now, and he was proud of that. He wasn't going to undo all of his hard work.

His life was finally on the mend.

"Hello, there," came a smooth, sexy voice said from behind him.

Mike glanced over to see last night's conquest leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, clad in nothing but one of his button up shirts. He normally loved that look on women, but this morning it wasn't really doing it for him.

"Hey," he said back as she began to saunter over toward him. "Good morning."

The woman smiled as she stopped in front of him. "Good morning." Raising herself up on her toes to meet his height, she kissed him.

Mike wasn't really in the mood for this. He'd had his fun last night, and now he just wanted her out of the apartment. But he was a hot-blooded male, so when she began to trace his lips with her tongue, parts of him began to react involuntarily, and he quickly found himself kissing her back, hard and deep. Spinning her around, he pressed her firmly up against the refrigerator and lowered his hands to her hips. She moaned slightly as she began running her hands through his hair.

The sound of his cell phone ringing behind him immediately broke him out of the spell he'd allowed himself to be put under. Pulling away from her slightly, he said, "I should get that."

She whimpered, but she allowed him to remove himself from her to answer it.

He glanced down at the phone to see who was calling, but he didn't recognize the number. For a brief moment he considered just letting it go to voicemail and getting back to whatever he and what's-her-name were about to do. But something in the back of his mind urged him to answer it, so after the third ring, he did.

"Hello?"

"Mike," said the voice on the other end of the phone. A voice he recognized immediately. "It's Sam. We need to talk."

For a moment, he stopped breathing. Sam. He hadn't heard her voice in so long. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to talk to her.

"Mike? Are you there?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm here. What's up?"

 _What's up?_ He hadn't spoken to her in over a year, and all he could say was, " _what's up?_ " like they were friends who talked to each other every day on the phone?

There was a moment of silence on her end, and he wondered if perhaps she'd hung up. But just as soon as the thought crossed his mind, she continued talking.

"Have you received anything strange in the mail?"

"What?" Mike wasn't sure he heard her correctly. It seemed like such an odd question for an estranged friend to suddenly call up out-of-the-blue and ask.

"Have you received anything strange in the mail?" she repeated.

He thought about it for the moment, even though he had no idea what she classified as being 'strange'. "I don't think so..." he finally answered.

"Have you looked outside your front door yet this morning?"

Mike glanced over at the scantily clad woman still standing against the refrigerator. She smiled seductively at him as she began to slowly unbutton the shirt she was soon to be not wearing.

He quickly glanced away, not wanting to get distracted. "No, I haven't. Why? What's going on, Sam?"

"Are you home right now?"

"Yes, I am."

"Can you go check?" Her voice was demanding, and it infuriated him.

The last time they'd spoken with each other, she told him she hated him and never wanted to speak to him again. And now she was calling him to ask him to check his mail? None of this made any sense to him.

But he decided to do what he was told. He would check his mail for her, he would report his findings, and then she'd disappear from his life again without another word.

"It might not be in the mailbox," Sam explained as Mike made his way across the apartment. "It might just be on the ground right outside your door."

"Okay..." he said, opening up the door. The first thing he did was look down, and sure enough, there was an envelope lying on the doorstep in front of him. Bending down, he picked it up.

Without even bothering to look at who it was address to, he ripped open the envelope and took out the card inside. As he began to read the words printed on it, he felt his blood turn cold in his veins.

"What the fuck?" he muttered into the phone.

He heard Sam sigh. "You got it too, then?"

Mike gaped down at the invitation he held in his hand. "Sam, what the hell is this?"

"Like I said," she replied, "we need to talk."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Whoops! So it's been about 6 months since I last updated this story. My bad! But I just remembered recently that I was in the middle of writing this, so I decided to try and get back into it. Once I started writing this chapter, I also remembered how much fun I was having writing it! So, to anybody who might be reading this, just know that I plan to update more frequently. I hate giving up on projects. Thanks for reading!


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